


The Patience of Cautious Hearts

by fractionallyfoxtrot



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: First Dates, M/M, Waiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3974464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractionallyfoxtrot/pseuds/fractionallyfoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwaine looked back over his shoulder at the open doors to the castle. He was usually up for helping with any of Merlin’s mundane tasks but today, right at that moment, he couldn’t be pulled away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Patience of Cautious Hearts

“What are you doing?”

Gwaine jumped at the sudden questioning, anticipation making him skittish in a way he didn’t like. He whipped around to see Merlin looking back at him, a basketful of rags held in his hands.

“Nothing.”

The rise of Merlin’s brow and the curve of his smile told Gwaine that he’d answered far too quickly.

“Oh, good. Would you mind helping me then?” Merlin asked, lifting the basket to emphasize his request. “Arthur’s got me polishing swords for tomorrow’s ceremony. They don’t have to be perfect, they just have to shine, and it would go twice as fast if you helped me.”

Gwaine looked back over his shoulder at the open doors to the castle. He was usually up for helping with any of Merlin’s mundane tasks – he often found the sheer volume of some tasks unfair to assign to just one person – but today, right at that moment, he couldn’t be pulled away.

“Sorry, Merlin,” he apologized. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m… busy.”

“You just said you weren’t doing anything!” Merlin pointed out.

If Gwaine had been less preoccupied, he would’ve noticed the amusement in Merlin’s voice and the playful glint that shone in his eyes. Instead his mouth hung open, waiting to voice some excuse that would explain his lack of availability and his mishandling of his own words. He abandoned the attempt to explain himself at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs behind him. He turned to look and was both relieved and disappointed to see a servant with an armful of washing.

“Why do you keep looking at the doors?” Merlin asked. He sounded very close and Gwaine looked back to see Merlin standing right next to him, the basket of rags moved to his hip. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“No,” Gwaine answered after shaking his head, trying to avoid the incriminating quickness of earlier.

Merlin smiled, looking anything but convinced. Gwaine hastily tried to decide which name – any one but the true one – Merlin would be least likely to question when he inevitably asked who Gwaine was waiting for. He decided on Reynold, a new knight he knew Merlin wasn’t very familiar with, when Merlin’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward and sniffed him.

“Have you bathed?”

Gwaine took a step back, holding his arms up in question. “I can’t bathe?”

“I honestly wasn’t sure,” Merlin shrugged. He laughed and Gwaine rolled his eyes, not wanting to stray too far from their normal interaction. Unfortunately, Merlin’s interest didn’t end with his joke. “Who have you bathed for-“

“Merlin!”

They both looked up as Arthur – and only Arthur – came down the stairs. Gwaine would never admit it to it but he was grateful for the princess’ perfectly timed entrance.

“I asked you to polish the swords for the ceremony hours ago,” Arthur said, crossing his arms and eyeing the basket in Merlin’s hands pointedly. “Have you really not started?”

“I was just on my way-“

“To the armory or the tavern?” Arthur questioned. Merlin tried to speak his defense but Arthur turned him bodily and started him in the direction of the armory. “There are other things that need to be done after that, Merlin, so it’s really in your best interest if you start now.”

Gwaine mouthed an apology when Merlin looked back at him, only to have Arthur course correct him again. Arthur left Gwaine with a nod and accompanied Merlin to the armory, guiding him with one hand on Merlin’s back to keep him from straying from his task again. Gwaine breathed a sigh of relief as they left the courtyard; as grateful as he’d been to see Arthur arrive, he was even happier to see him go.

Arthur – had he stayed, had he seen who Merlin was asking about – would surely make fun of him.

He was often the butt of Arthur and his fellow knights’ jokes. He was fine with that, he never really minded; the jokes usually lightened the mood and lifted morale when they needed it most and Gwaine had no problem helping his brothers at arms that way. But he didn’t want _this_ to be a joke. They could have his height, his tendency to over drink, his love of apples and cheese, his faulty knowledge of well-known songs, and his misfortune of riding his horse into a tree. They could have it all, everything, except this.

Gwaine wanted to keep this for himself for as long as possible.

“Gwaine.”

Gwaine jumped at the new voice, still not liking how skittish waiting made him. He turned around and was faced with Leon coming down the last of the stairs.

Leon looked good in red. Gwaine knew that, had known that for some time, but Leon looked even better when it was the red of a well-tailored tunic and not his knight’s cloak which came with too many layers of armor and duty. He preferred this red and this Leon, the one who chose to spend time with him when he was under no obligation to do so. Leon stopped in front of him, a few of his curls falling over his face.

It took Gwaine a moment to find his usually quick tongue.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Leon said with a smile, somehow imbuing the word with a casualness that escaped Gwaine. “Shall we go?”

“If you still want to,” Gwaine found himself saying.

Leon sighed but in a way Gwaine was beginning to distinguish from the ones he heard in training or on patrol. It was softer, more amused, less exasperated; it was fond. It was a distinction that made Gwaine smile more than he liked to admit or was able to control, biting back his grin only when he realized how wide it was. Leon put both hands on Gwaine’s shoulders and turned him, pointing Gwaine in the direction of the town and the proposed night at the tavern, leaning in as he started them walking.

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” he asked.

Unwelcome answers sprung to Gwaine’s mind but were quickly forgotten when Leon’s hand trailed down Gwaine’s back instead of simply falling away from his shoulder. It slid down between his shoulder blades and lingered on the small of his back until they left the citadel and crossed into the town.

“I can’t think of a single reason,” Gwaine said, speaking honestly while trying to infuse the sentence with charm.

Leon smiled – smiled, not laughed – and Gwaine could feel his nerves finally beginning to settle.

“Neither can I.”


End file.
